


Judicial

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21895144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gladio guards Ignis’ court.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 11
Kudos: 67





	Judicial

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

After so many years and so many thousands of cases, they start to feel a little boring, even when the plaintiff is a spitting psychopath who can’t seem to keep his voice down despite several warnings from the judge. He must know it’s not earning him any brownie points, but he splutters his opinions all over the facts anyway, butting in whenever it’s the defendant’s turn to talk, and the defendant glares right back like they’ll be settling their differences in the parking lot outside. That’ll be a problem for another set of officers. All Gladiolus has to do is guard this one courtroom. He stands tall beside the bench, his arms crossed over his large chest, his uniform crisp and proud, his comments kept to himself, though he’ll share all of them in Ignis’ chambers afterwards. This case is as boring as any—a simple contract breach, which is what everything seems to boil down to—but Gladiolus is paying a bit more attention than usual, because he doesn’t _like_ these litigants.

Granted, he doesn’t like most of them. They get plenty of decent people just in regular disputes, who either don’t have a good grasp of the law or are just thinking with their hearts instead of heads, but there’s also a whole slew of idiots who come in with ass-backward ideals about how the court’s supposed to bail them out. They get stupid people, greedy people, downright nasty people, and then, occasionally, even though it’s civil court, _dangerous_ people.

Both litigants feel dangerous to Gladiolus. The plaintiff seems the sort prone to violent outbursts, and the defendant keeps eyeing Ignis up—the worst offense. Occasionally, Gladiolus does entertain the idea of moving to criminal court just to escape the myriad of used car and rental apartment cases, but then he’d have to trust Ignis to another bailiff. And that’s not going to happen. 

While Mr. Tummelt’s going off on a long tangent, Gladiolus squints at Mr. Nox Fleuret, who hasn’t taken his eyes off Ignis since he entered—aside from the occasional quick snarl in the plaintiff’s direction. Gladiolus watches that heated gaze trace Ignis’ hairline, trail along his glasses, dip down his slender shoulders to the silver necklace half-hidden beneath his black robe. Then it finally hits Gladiolus _why_ the defendant’s staring. He’s not trying to intimidate the judge. It sounds like the facts back him up anyway. He’s staring at Ignis because he’s _interested_. 

The gavel bangs in Gladiolus’ right ear. Tummelt finally shuts up. In that haggard, long-suffering sigh of his, Ignis tightly drawls, “ _Did_ your sister’s dogs urinate in his mech, Mr. Fleuret?”

“Absolutely not,” the defendant snaps. “And I have an affidavit from Mr. Leonis agreeing that we left it in perfect condition.”

“Cor? Your honour—!” Tummelt cuts in, only for Ignis to hiss over top of him, “Mr. Tummelt, if you interrupt me _one more time_ , I’m throwing your case out.”

The plaintiff shuts his mouth but _glares_. Ignis is too dignified to return the glare, but Gladiolus isn’t. After rustling through a few papers, Fleuret holds out a sheet, as though Ignis is going to come right off the bench, drift over to him, and take it. 

Fleuret’s never even going to know what kind of shoes Ignis wears. Gladiolus crosses the room instead. He takes the paper from the defendant’s hand, but before he delivers that to his judge, he leans over to whisper, thick with warning, “Don’t even think about it.”

Fleuret’s white brows draw together, giving him a disgruntled look. Gladiolus stares fiercely back at him, as though daring him to try it. Then, slowly, Gladiolus backs up and hands Ignis the paper. 

Ignis offers him a quiet, “Thank you, Gladio,”—infinitely more pleasant than the way he’s spoken to either litigant.

Smirking up a storm, Gladiolus returns to his faithful spot at Ignis’ side. He stares out across the courtroom—the angry plaintiff, the disappointed defendant, the public gallery probably only there to eye up the famously handsome Judge Scientia. Gladiolus feels a swell of pride knowing that of all of them, he’s the only person in the entire room who’ll ever see Ignis out of his robe.


End file.
